


Good As Your Word

by retrovertigo (ellameno)



Series: The Great Fire [15]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst and Humor, Arguing, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Banter, Bonding, Canon Rewrite, Developing Friendships, Did you bring Nick to the Railroad hoping something interesting would happen and nothing did?, F/M, Families of Choice, Freedom Fighters, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Kindred Spirits, Loss, Mentor/Protégé, Mission Fic, Moral Dilemmas, Other, Robot/Human Relationships, Slow Burn, Spies & Secret Agents, Training, What was once a slow burn is now a workplace comedy, Yeah. This fic's for you., staying as close to canon as i can while trying to revise some of their oversights teehee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 02:47:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14275260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellameno/pseuds/retrovertigo
Summary: Nora's quest leads her into a perilous initiation process and gains her a new, but strange, ally.[Takes place during the quest "Tradecraft"]





	Good As Your Word

**Author's Note:**

> WHOOHOO WE'RE HERE AND I'M SO EXCITED! I guess just a warning for language because the Railroad has some mouths on 'em. Everything else is nothing worse than you'd see on the mission.  
> There's some POV shifts as scenes change in this and I hope they're not too jarring or confusing ;o; I wanted to get both Nick and Nora's take on this.

         The musty cavern air was thick with the scent of ancient earth. Had he possessed human lungs, Nick may have found it overpowering, even suffocatingly so. But it wasn’t just the air that would have made him short of breath, it was heavy artillery aimed in his friend's direction. He yearned desperately to stand in front of her as a shield, but Nora held her ground with a confidence he’d never seen. This was a woman driven. She had only one thing on her mind, and it wasn’t fear of death.

         When posed the question, she didn’t waver in the slightest or even take pause. The synth knew she cared about him, but to devote herself to complete strangers...

         By all appearances, her response satisfied. The armed guards withdrew to a further chamber, their leader beckoning Nora to follow into the deep shadows of the catacomb.

         “You... you would really die for something like me?” Nick rasped, his voice returning.

         She blinked at him like he’d asked the silliest question. “ _Nick._ ” She chuckled before walking away.

         He grabbed a gentle hold of her shoulder, pulling her back. Again she seemed bewildered. “Kid, I’m serious,” he whispered. “I mean... I know we’re close friends but... even for a total stranger?”

         “Wouldn’t you?”

          _Well, yes but_... “It’s... different.”

         “Not really,” she said softly before continuing down the tunnel.

         Nick became impossibly winded, unable to draw breath into his lungs to say anything more. He’d always admired her resolve and compassion, but he didn’t predict this. When he eventually followed her into the dark, a new sensation of gravity was pulling his metal frame like she was a magnet.

         ---

         A man in a lab coat jumped out of his seat in alarm, then seemed confounded once none of his colleagues did the same. He pointed a finger at Nora.

         “Who is that?”

         “It's _fine_ ,” the agent codenamed Deacon dismissed, his sunglasses glinting in the brightly candlelit room.

         “The synth with her checks out,” the leader, Desdemona, added.

         “Oh.” The medic straightened his posture and his tie, noting Nick’s presence. “Hello, sir.”

         “Err, hey...” Nick looked him over. “Doc.”

         “Carrington.” He approached with an outstretched hand.

         Nick took ahold with a bit of startled clumsiness, as handshakes offered to him were rare. “Valentine.”

         The doctor had a firm grip and the clasp itself was prolonged.

         “ _Wow_ , buy him a drink first,” Deacon quipped. It was already evident he was the group’s designated pain in the ass.

         Carrington scowled in his direction. “I’m trying to make a second impression. I’m sorry our heavies are so loutish.”

         “I don’t know what that word means,” Glory said as she set down her massive gatling gun. “But if _you_ said it then I don’t like it.”

         “Apologies,” Carrington repeated to Nick in a whisper.

         “None needed.” Nick smiled.

         Nora heard mumblings behind her.

         “Is she an agent?” an unknown man asked.

         “No, but she’s gonna help us get back in the Switchboard.” Nora recognized the voice as Drummer Boy, the last of the agents who had met her with guns drawn.

         “A stranger? _Unvetted?_ ”

         Nora wanted to look back or meet their misgivings with reassurance, but from the hushed tone of the voices she was already eavesdropping and they didn’t suspect she could overhear.

         “Deacon vouched for her.”

         “I don’t trust Deacon as far as I can throw him,” the man protested. Nora’s attention shot to Deacon with unease. He raised his brows in a way that suggested his eyes were rolling behind his lenses. “What if she wants tech from the Switchboard?”

         “Tom, seriously? The Institute already raided us, why would they need us to get into a place they already _had?_ ”

         “Our prototype is still in there,” Tom said between clenched teeth. “They need a code.”

         “Hey, Tinker,” Deacon called out. Nora looked back in time to see the two whisperers jump. “Yeah, not deaf. We’re getting your damn toys back, will you calm down?”

         Tom blinked. “You’re taking a stranger. To get our shit.”

         “She checks out. Look, she’s got a cool entourage and everything,” he said with a smile, pointing to Nick who was now conversing with Glory.

         “Holy shit, he’s real,” Tom said wide-eyed. “I _told you_ he was real,” he said aside to Drummer Boy who sighed in concession.

         Nora smirked, glad to have Nick cause a positive stir for once, then turned her attention back to the synth in question.

         “So when you talk you _talk-_ talk, it's not digitized like the others,” Glory said to him, her demeanor no longer coarse but almost eager.

         “Yeah.”

         “Why is that?”

         “Y’know, I dunno. Suppose it’s a reflex. Wouldn’t know how to do it any other way.” Nick sounded earnest and unoffended, presumably because he was in the company of allies and not gawking common folk.

         “Do the other Gen 2’s talk to you? Do think they think your voice sounds strange?”

         “Uh, well, they usually ask me why I’m out of uniform and if I’m lost.”

         “So they don’t deem you a threat?”

         “No, not when I’m alone.”

         She continued shadowing him, asking questions about sentience and reminding Nora of the most ardent classmates of her law school days.

         “Well, Nick has a fan,” she remarked.

         Deacon’s mouth twitched, seemingly torn between ire and amusement. “You don’t know the half of it. Since day one Glory’s been trying to convince Dez that Gen 2’s need emancipation too.”

         Nora looked over her frames at him, slightly caught off guard. “What, your good will doesn’t include all synths?”

         “It’s... a slippery slope. I mean, Nick, sure... But he’s basically a Gen 3 in a Gen 2 casing, right? I’ve never heard a Gen 2 make a dad joke.”

         “Surprised you know what that is.”

         “What, do you think dads went extinct?” Deacon said sarcastically, to which Nora laughed. “But anyway... Yeah man, my whole experience with Gen 2’s is trying to stop their genocidal raids.”

         “Yeah but that’s programming. You could get my Mr. Handy to do that, but luckily he’s the sweetest thing.”

         “Like I said... Slippery slope. We’re trying to help people indistinguishable from womb-born humans... and that’s hard enough. I can’t take pity on every chrome dome who pulls a gun on our refugees.”

         “Well... _I’m_ fighting for a world where people won’t hurl insults and objects at Nick as he passes by.”

         “That’s really admirable. No bullshit. I mean we use the ‘lab grown’ analogy to keep the civvies from committing hate crimes. And then you’re out fighting for someone made of metal and wires.”

         “Cause he’s a person,” Nora said, her tone unwavering.

         Deacon smiled. “Oh man, Glory’s gonna love having you around. Just hope your aim is a bit more discriminate.”

         The conversation behind them grew louder, enough for Nora and Deacon to take note; it was becoming something more heated by the second.

         “He’s a Gen 2! He has feelings,” Glory insisted.

         “He is a human personality matrix, not a manually coded AI,” Desdemona replied in a more measured tone.

         “I’ve hurt the feelings of a Mr. Handy!”

         “But that’s not a Gen 2.”

         “So if you put a Mr. Handy personality in a Gen 2 would you consider it worth saving?”

         “Glory you’re comparing apples to--”

         “What’s the fucking difference--”

         “Woah, Glor,” Deacon said, swooping in, “let’s settle down.”

         “They’re both computer programs!” Glory ignored Deacon completely. “What _part_ of the program dictates whether they’re allowed to live?! Dez, that is bullshit!”

         Nick placed a hand on Glory’s shoulder. She twitched like her reflex was to pounce but then she looked at him with wild eyes, before locking them onto Nora’s, as if pleading for back up.

         “We need to keep our priorities in order,” Desdemona continued. “Gen 3’s are actively pursued by Coursers and older Gens. I’ve said this to you before-- If you have no qualms killing a Gen 3 Courser why are Gen 2 and 1 assassins any different?”

         “Because we never _ever_ help Gen 2’s,” Glory countered, “we never give them a chance.”

         “Glory,” Carrington said firmly. A stillness fell over the room.

         Glory’s eyes again met Nora’s. “When you said you’d die for a synth, you meant him right?”

         Somehow being on the spot like this made her feel more vulnerable than with the weapons pointed at her. But her convictions stood firm.

         “Yes,” she answered.

         Nick again wore that befuddled expression.

         “See, Dez, she’s not even one of us--”

         “Glory, _please,_ don’t drag this nice...” Desdemona paused and stared at Nick as if unsure how to address him.

         “Synth,” Nick offered.

         “This nice synth into your crusade.”

         “How is mine a ‘crusade’?” Glory muttered. “Synths are synths.”

         “Now’s not the time,” Deacon said, his voice soft but authoritative, like an older sibling.

         “Well, when is?” Glory snapped. She whispered something to Nick and then tramped into another room. The mutterings slowly resumed around the cavern.

         Desdemona’s eyes bore into her roundtable for a moment, her lips tight as she slowly shook her head. “I... Please forgive all of... _That_ was not... how I _would’ve_ preferred to follow up things from the tunnel--”

         “It’s OK, Dez,” Deacon interjected. “Better to get the bullshit out of the way first so they don’t think it’s _all_ fun and games around here.” He turned to Nick. “We can scream a lot. That’s what a family does, right?”

         Nick offered Desdemona a rueful smile. “It is a bit refreshing to hear a stranger doing so on my behalf, instead of at my expense.”

         Her brows upturned with tired gratitude. “I think tensions are... a tad high, and volatile personalities are at their breaking point. We’re recovering from what may be the hardest blow of our history.” She looked to Nora. “That’s why your assistance on this would be most appreciated.”

         “I want to do whatever I can to help you fight the Institute and save synths,” Nora said.

         “So long as it’s not _too_ dangerous,” Nick added.

         “Well I’m not sure there’s anything _more_ perilous than defying the Commonwealth’s greatest evil,” Desdemona said skeptically. “If you’re unsure--”

         Nora waved a hand. “He doesn’t speak for me, he’s just an indestructible synth who thinks humans are too delicate.”

         “We _are_ pretty gooey, you gotta admit.”

         “Listen, I’m saying you have unfinished business,” Nick said close to her ear.

         “And I intend to finish it. But there’s always room to lend a hand.”

         “Hey, let’s just play this like a test run,” Deacon said. “Do this errand with me, and if we’re not your speed then we’ll still be better off than before you helped us out. No hard feelings, compadres.”

         Desdemona nodded quickly. Nora could read the anxiety in her eyes. Even though she started out as a steadfast intimidating commander, it was clear she was also juggling too much already and was leaving this newest development in Deacon’s hands. After all, letting Nora in was his idea.

         “OK,” Deacon sighed, “so here’s what went down...”

         It was a horrific tale, to say the least. Nora had never heard a firsthand account of the vicious raids the Institute conducted by way of their metal synths. But just the way Desdemona’s eyes became dead and distant as Deacon relayed the saga was more than enough to strike dread in her own heart. At every bleak detail Nick made sounds of condolence and concern, as if he nearly felt responsible for what the assassins with his face had done to these people. It emboldened Nora even more to fight to ensure that Nick never again had to shoulder misplaced blame.

         They were to meet up with an informant, forge their way to what was left of the former headquarters, and salvage whatever they could. Hopefully the Institute hadn’t destroyed everything, or worse; planted even more synths there in wait.

         “Hey, wait up,” Glory said as the trio broached the exit tunnel.

         “No, you’re not coming with us,” Deacon sighed like a kid sister was tagging at his heels.

         “Chill the fuck out, I’m not talking to you.” She turned to Nora. “Please. Please, sis, do me a favor--”

         “Sis?” Deacon laughed.

         “ _Shut up D_. Please. If there’s still Gen 2’s down there, will you pulse them?” She was clutching some kind of grenade in her hand. “And then if you can pull out the battery cable, disable one, bring one back--”

         “No,” Deacon deadpanned.

         “I said shut up! Please, Ms… _whoever_ you are... I want to see if Tinker Tom can reprogram one. He fixed PAM. So. Maybe he can make a Gen 2 see reason.”

         “I can’t make any promises,” Nora said diplomatically.

         “But you’ll consider it.”

         “Of course.”

         “That’s more than anyone else has ever done here.” Her dark eyes shot daggers at Deacon.

         “C’mon, Glor. You can’t play the black and white morality card on us when you’ve got the highest civvy body count in history.”

         “Synths are my people. If humans are your people, then you should understand.”

         “Everyone’s my people. I do a clean run.”

         “And how many of _him_ have you killed on your clean run?”

         “Please leave him out of this,” Deacon said. “He’s in a unique and incredibly shitty situation, he’s not here to be your poster boy.”

         Her eyes flashed to Nick. “Sorry.”

         “S’alright.”

         Nora held out her hand for the pulse weapon. Glory’s stern face almost appeared moved, as if she’d been preaching on a soap box for years and finally someone had stopped to listen. Deacon gave a low groan but didn’t protest any further.

         “I owe you. I’ve never owed anyone in my life, but I owe you,” Glory said, before returning to the main room.

         “What the hell is she talking about -- She owes me like forty caps,” Deacon muttered, breaking Nora from the moment. “Anyway... this corridor will lead you out to a backstreet and we’d appreciate it if you don’t make loud noises or even _converse_ til you’re a few blocks from us.”

         “Wait, you ain’t comin’ with?” Nick asked.

         “We gotta split and meet up in the most inconspicuous way, pal. You head out now, and then, oh, say noonish tomorrow I meet you at the old underpass up from Graygarden.”

         “Tomorrow?” Nora wrinkled her nose. Her adrenaline had leveled off but she was still itching to continue on the path most likely to lead to her son. “ _Really?_ ”

         “What, no likey?”

         “I just mean, sending us off and dragging it out like this? We could go now, we have the sunlight.”

         “This is how we operate. If someone’s on our ass trying to wipe us off the map, it’s best we’re not all in one place and easy to track.”

         “Right… _Well,_ maybe that’s for the best anyway,” Nora said to Nick. “You do have an appointment tonight.”

         “Yeah, guess it’d be unprofessional to skip it.”

         “Cool, I will pencil you in for a lunch date,” Deacon said brightly. “Oh shit, _can_ you bring lunch? That’d be _so_ choice, bring some lunch.”

         “Sure,” Nora said with a bemused smile, trying to figure out how a man with such a serious job could be so... blithe.

         ---

         “Four hours, that ain’t bad,” Nick said, once the brick walls and green doors of the ballpark came into view. “Not bad at all to join a secret society and make it home in time for supper.”

         “What the hell just happened?” Nora laughed.

         “I have no idea... But lets hope initiation doesn't involve any hazing.”

         In the office Piper and Ellie were sitting about, seeming even more stunned at the pair’s arrival than they were at their presence. Before either of the detectives could utter a word, Ellie burst into tears.

         “Nick, you're OK,” she wailed before all but leaping into his arms.

         “Yeah, I'm fine--”

         “I thought you--” She took gasping breaths. “--or both of y-you--”

         Piper stormed up from the desk chair with such a fervor it rolled across the room. “Seriously Nick, what the fuck, you jerk!”

         “H-Hey!” Nick sputtered, as Ellie continued sobbing into his shirt. “I didn’t miss my app--”

         “You can't do that to her _again!”_ Piper scolded. “We expected you _hours_ ago -- You can’t just disappear like that!”

         “I'm sorry.” Nora cringed. “It's my fault.”

         Piper jumped back. “What? What happened, Blue?”

         “It's the case. _Her_ case, we got a lead,” Nick answered, now sheepishly rubbing Ellie’s back.

         “ _Oh._ ” Piper appeared like she was between shock and relief.

         Ellie perked up. “Oh. Oh, that's wonderful.” She wiped away a tear and Nick gently thumbed away her smudged eyeliner.

         “Did it work out, did-- is--” The usually prying journalist was hesitant for once.

         “We’ve got some more eyes looking out for us,” Nick replied cryptically.

         “Oh. OK.” She nodded soberly. Her sights moved to Nora, who nodded back with a reassuring smile. Piper’s shoulders relaxed.  “Well. I won’t kick your rusted ass this time, but don’t flake out on us without warning again. An hour, two, maybe you got tied up in a tussle, but four? That’s a dead man’s delay. Blue gets a pass, but Nicky you should _know better_ ,” Piper said, as if she were addressing Nat and not a robot more than twice her age.

         Nora had to admit she was mildly entertained by seeing the reversal of roles where Nick got the parental lecture for once.

         “Listen, she was gonna haul it whether I went or not, would you rather me abandon her?”

         “I apologize,” Nora said to Ellie, who was pink and exhausted, her makeup running like she’d been left in the rain.

         “Maybe I overreacted. He’s done it before, I’m just a bit on edge.”

         “Oh, don’t make excuses for him,” Piper replied.

         “Least it wasn’t two weeks,” Nick joked and Piper narrowed her eyes again. He looked at Ellie. “And you, girl, what’d you do to your mug?”

         “I just put on a little--” She made a gesture around her face. “We’re having company, I didn’t wanna look like a bumpkin.”

         “Yeah, now ya look like you’re going through a rebellious phase. Wash up, hun.” Nick sighed like an exhausted father. He turned to the women who still stood in his doorway. “OK, shoo, I got business to attend to at any moment. Treat yourself to dinner -- but if you dare get her drunk, I swear,” he menaced at Piper. “Tomorrow I’m walking her home. _For real,_ ” he said, meaning hiding under his words as he gave Nora a deliberate look.

         Nora simpered back. “I’m a big girl, Nick, I can be responsible. Just for one night.”

         It forced a laugh from him. “Yeah, well.” He gave a tired wave and collapsed back into his desk chair as if all the events of the day had hit him at once.

         ---

         At the inn, Piper kept steering their conversation to what Nick and Nora uncovered, voice dripping with concern but still pressing for information. Part of Nora was glad Nick insisted on no booze, because she needed all her wits to keep the investigative reporter at bay. She also wished Piper would just get the hint and stop asking, _as a friend_. But as a career woman herself she knew work habits could weasel their way into everyday life.

         “Well, _take two_ , huh?” Piper joked as she gave Nora another hug before parting ways. “I know you gotta keep things on the DL, but if you get any good scoops on the Institute, you send it my way. Promise me? Your old pal?”

         “Only if it doesn’t compromise the case,” Nora said, her mind turning to another promise she’d made to yet another unyielding girl.

         “ _Yeah, yeah._ But after wouldn’t hurt. Remember, I’m counting on you!”

         Walking back from dinner alone, Nora spied Nick awaiting in the alley, a smokey silhouette amidst the comforting blush of red neon.

         “How’d it go?” Nora asked.

         “Fine. Just negotiating a payment plan for an old case. I let him off easier than I intended… Seems so trivial now compared to what’s ahead of us. That and Ellie did most of the talking, to be honest… I think she has a crush.”

         “I always thought she had eyes for Piper.”

         “She has eyes for a lot of people. She gets distracted by whoever’s new and shiny, but who can blame her with all the faces that pass through here? Speaking of eyes… let’s go inside. I’m comin’ down with a case of paranoia after everything that’s happened.”

         They conferred in hushed voices, Nick being as ambiguous as possible, doubtful that his anxious secretary wouldn't snoop. He appeared a bit rattled, more than Nora would have expected from a man who strolled into criminal hideouts with the easy air of a pulp hero. Nora drew much of her confidence in the wastes by reading his cues, and tonight they weren’t as reassuring as she’d hoped.

         Hours passed. Nerves jostled through her body as she tossed and turned in Nick’s bed, what she had done gradually sinking in. It wasn’t as though she were having second thoughts about the Railroad, but the whole situation seemed surreal. Nora had passed up Brotherhood recruitment, couldn’t accept the Minutemen title of General, and yet didn’t have a single hesitation about joining the ranks of what might be the most treacherous job in the Wasteland. All three factions extending her a hand sought to fight against the Institute as it was, but no one else was attempting to help someone like Nick have a better life.

         It just felt right.

         ---

         "You're incredible, you know,” Nick said as she refilled her canteen at Greygarden.

         Nora peered up from the water tank. "What?"

         "Most people would run away from _this kind of thing_ ,” he said vaguely, some Minutemen guards within earshot. “And from day one you've been fighting back."

         "It's what a parent does. They take on the world for their kid."

         "You and I both know that ain't universal."

         "I don't want to be like my parents."

         "You aren't. It’s impossible at this point. Even if you walked away right now, you'd have done more than they ever did. I'm right, aren't I?"

         "They abandoned me," Nora said hoarsely, taking a brisk drink from the vessel before topping it off.

         "And they didn't even have to go through Hellfire in order to see you again.”

         “I guess.”

         She’d carried the resentment as soon as she had been old enough to comprehend what they’d done. Delivering Nora to her grandparents door, begging for help with such a burdensome child, then fleeing one night, only to be heard from through postcard from thereon. They’d been dead to her for decades, and now they were dead for good, yet she still felt them looming over her.

         “I always figured spite was the great motivator, but then you got me thinkin’ that maybe it _is_ love.”

         Nora replied with a feeble smile. “I feel like that shouldn’t deserve praise.”

         “And again… we know it can be hard to find in any era.”

         They took the short but moderately grueling trek over the steep road that snaked up the hill. The highway overpass towered over them like stonehenge built by giants. It looked ostensibly sturdy still, even with part of it having since collapsed down; if needed, it formed an easy access point to climb to the top. The pair arrived a bit earlier than scheduled, meeting no pitfalls or skirmishes along their way.

         Nora sat down on a knoll to catch her breath, and downed her canteen yet again.

         A herd of radstags passed. Then a caravaneer heading to their prior location. She sensed movement from the corner of her eye and spotted a person approaching over the horizon, clad in a duster and hat.

         “Is that him?” Nora asked.

         “Is... No. No, I dunno who that is.”

         “You sure?”

         “That ain’t him, it’s just a drifter. Why d’you think it’s him?”

         “He’s wearing sunglasses.”

         “So what?” Nick squinted at the approaching figure. “Lotta... Lotta people...” He went silent. “OK, it’s him.”

         ---

         Things were as routine at first, like standard job training. Deacon taught her some of their doublespeak, their symbols, a riff off of the “railway hobo code” of yore, things that died off into obscurity after centuries and were resurrected for a brand new purpose. Then they met up with the informant atop the overpass, a surly man who didn’t bear the greatest of news: there were synths outside the main entrance and a minefield leading up to it.

         Deacon had her determine what to do, whether to believe their source, who was currently disgruntled and disillusioned with the Railroad itself... Nora took a deep breath. She was used to trusting Nick’s judgment in such situations, but this was her case, not his. And it wouldn’t be surprising for Deacon to be testing her a little. If anything, it was high time she started to test _herself_ , no matter how scary that was. Deacon advised her to trust her gut. Nick agreed. And Nora’s gut told her the man wasn’t lying… Even if he was a bit pissed off, she didn’t suspect he’d lead them astray simply out of pettiness. He just wanted no further part in it. Both men accepted her decision, and though she appreciated their faith she wouldn’t have minded a little more training wheels before being given any responsibility.

         A secret back entrance was hidden inside a water pipe overgrown with vines. Nora reached into her pack to ensure her ammo was readily accessible, and her fingers brushed something that crinkled. _Oh. Right._

         She pulled out a paper bag and offered it to Deacon. “Here.”

         “What?”

         “Lunch?”

         “You...” He burst out laughing and Nora drew back, starting to gauge him as somewhat unstable. “I was just messing with you before -- oh man, you’re adorable. Thanks,” he said, accepting it. “This isn’t peanut butter is it, because I’m mad allergic.”

         “No, it’s a caprese.”

         “Cool beans, I live another day,” he said cheerfully. “Well, I mean, as long as there isn’t an _ambush_ waiting inside.” He swooped his hand forward. “Let’s find out!”

         ---

         Nora was still adjusting to tip-toeing over the occasional corpse, but a scale like this made her stomach turn. The tunnels to the old headquarters were littered with bodies, both human and mechanical.  Many of the older synths didn’t even have casings, just twisted metal all exposed, faces torn up in disturbing ways.

         She noticed Nick staring at one as Deacon returned from scouting ahead. She approached her friend, all too aware of how much they troubled him.

         “Under this peeling skin, I'm nothing more than that,” Nick said, before giving the metal remains a swift and inured kick.

         “Nick. I'm a skeleton too.” Nora sighed, slightly incredulous.

         “Yeah, but it’s... different.”

         “We’re all just stuff that’s sentient for some reason or another,” Deacon said.

         Nick glanced up, and took a thoughtful inhale. “Maybe you’re right.”

         Nora rubbed his shoulder, before turning to Deacon again. “How many more waves of--” She nodded to the synths. “-- _them_ do you think there are?”

         “Honestly? Hell if I know. When we got raided there were enough to absolutely hand our asses to us, but I didn’t think they’d leave so many behind. It’s hard to say whether they thought we’d double back, or if they just don’t give a shit about their property.”

         “From experience, I’d say the latter,” Nick said bitterly.

         “There’s about four a good ways ahead of us, just kind of hanging out. I can’t access the turrets from here, so we won’t be able to get the drop on them this time.”

         “So what do you suggest?” Nick asked.

         “It’d be best to group them together, then wipe them all out with that pulse grenade.”

         Nick made a nervous noise and Nora’s protective instincts fired.

         “Not with Nick around, we aren’t,” Nora said.

         “Oh. Well, shit, that’s true. I don’t think I’ve ever had to worry about _that_ before.”

         “Just get enough distance from me, that’s all.”

         “Kinda fucks up our combat formation, though.”

         “It’s better than killing Nick,” Nora hissed.

         “It won’t kill me-- _Well_... At least I don’t _think_ it would.”

         “Ideally, he could go in, call a Gen 2 huddle and then suicide bomb them with an EMP,” Deacon said.

         “ _Suicide?_ ” Nora’s hands balled into fists.

         “I meant that figuratively. He goes down, then I could try to just jumpstart his power--”

         “Nuh-uh, _you_ ain’t touchin’ me.”

         “Just a suggestion, pal. That way there’s less of a chance we meatbags get hit in a deadly crossfire.”

         Nick’s gaze shot to Nora with worry. She shook her head rapidly. “No. If something happens to you, what would I have left?”

         “We’ve been over this: you’re much more important.”

         Fear enveloped her. “Stop.”

         “Hey, Deacon; say I lead them down the hall and you slide a charge _behind_ them,” Nick said. “That way I can try to duck and cover before it’s too late.”

         “ _Nick--_ ”

         “That would be ingenious, man.”

         Nick again turned to Nora. “You know firsthand how much firepower it takes to stop one of these chumps, and we’re up against a whole lotta them. Path of least resistance, right kiddo?”

         “Not if it gets you hurt.”

         “I won’t get hurt _that bad_.”

         “You said it might kill--”

         “C’mon, write it off as me bein’ melodramatic. That gal back in the church wanted you to EMP ‘em anyway, and she’s kinda soft for these killing machines.”

         “If anything goes wrong, Tom knows how to get here. We’ll really owe you one anyway.”

         “Well?” Nick asked Nora.

         She scrunched up her face in dismay. Nick was placing his life in her shaking hands. “You know how I feel. But... It’s your body on the line,” she replied in a faint voice.

         “Listen, I’ve been through a hell of a lotta certain death situations, and I’m still kickin’. It’s probably for the best that I’m here with you two... Remember what I’ve said about taking advantage of me?” he asked with a smirk that made Nora laugh despite how terrified she was.

         “I like, _super_ appreciate this,” Deacon said, “like I’m not looking to weaponize you. It’s just... Y’know.”

         “Yeah, I know. If anything happens... _you_ don’t touch me,” Nick said sternly to Deacon. “Only... Only she can. Y’hear?”

         “Yeah man, I understand.”

         “Good.” Nick took a few steps. “Don’t worry, kid” he said to Nora, nudging her a bit.

         “Don’t make me worry,” she mumbled, trying to swallow the fear building inside her chest like a shaken up soda.

         “How come you’re good with me running into a bullet storm, but not this?”

         “Because you seemed freaked out like ten seconds ago.”

         “Yeah, well, lemme be kinda reckless like you are for once. It’s only fair.” He left a kiss on her forehead and Nora braced her tingling arms at her sides, knowing if she didn’t she’d seize a hold of him and never let go.

         ---

         Nick strolled ahead of them and the two humans tailed, creeping on their knees as to conceal the sound of their footsteps. Deacon rested his back against the corner wall, and Nora crouched beside him. Nick peered down at her and gave a casual nod, before heading down the corridor.

          _This could be the last time you see him alive, dummy,_ she thought. _And you just let him walk away._

         “Hello, fellas,” Nick said, his voice ringing off the walls. Nora swore her heartbeat was echoing just as loud.

         “Unit, why--”

         “It’s a long story, but first thing’s first, I need you all to follow me.”

         “Why--”

         “That’s an order from up top. C’mon.”

         Many pairs of feet followed, and robotic voices asking various confused questions. A good sign. Deacon held his hand out for the EMP and she passed it to him, trembling but trying to keep a brave face in front of the agent testing her.

         “It’s cool,” Deacon mouthed, then smiled.

         Nora couldn’t watch.

         She heard the grenade slide. A moment of nothing. Then a pop. Multiple bodies clattered down, and in her mind one of them was Nick crashing sickeningly to the floor.

         She held her breath fearing she might vomit.

         “All clear,” Nick’s voice echoed.

         Deacon jumped to his feet and Nora nearly fell backwards as she inhaled.

         “Nice job, pal! So casual, so nonchalant, intel would hire you in an instant if you weren’t, like, so obviously manufactured,” Deacon said. They approached the crumpled heaps. “Oh man, I would’ve avoided so many dicey situations if I had you around herding these guys like sheep.”

         “By the looks of things here, I’m going to assume the EMP tactic isn’t one commonly deployed,” Nick said as Nora returned to his side. She tried to dispel her daze of fear.

         “We had a decent supply we gave out for emergencies, but then the newbies would just chuck them in a panic at anything that moved, so we’re unfortunately in short supply. I guess Glory’s little ask saved our butts. Don’t… tell her I said that.”

         “We can keep that between us, I suppose,” Nick said, seeming a bit smug that he’d succeeded in such a risky plan. He ruffled Nora’s hair, and she stared up wordlessly, trying to convey she wasn’t nearly as pleased by the act as he was.

         “Let’s rip out their power, in case they’ve got a kick-start mechanism,” Deacon said.

         “I hope you never get any ideas,” Nick said aside to Nora.

         “About what?”

         He made a yanking motion near his neck.

         “ _Lewd_ ,” Deacon said.

         “No. H-How?” Nick retorted, flustered.

         “I dunno how synths work, I just suspected you were being lewd.”

         “The context was there, you’re being purposefully obtuse.”

         “Obtuse is my middle name, pal.”

         Nora smirked at Nick.

         “Don’t laugh at his dirty jokes,” Nick said.

         “I’m only allowed to laugh at yours?”

         “Yeah,” he said, surprising another laugh out of her. “Mine are funnier anyway.”

         “Yours are _cuter_ ,” she corrected.

         “I’ll take it.”

         “Speaking of taking.” Deacon lifted the assassin’s arm and dropped it with a loud thud. “We can’t take this big ole dude back to HQ.”

         “Maybe we can drag him somewhere for safekeeping,” Nora suggested. “In case someone wants to come back.”

         “Glory’s a heavy but even she can’t carry this sucker home.”

         “At least we’ve given her the option,” Nora said.

         “Here’s the thing about Glory; she’s tough as nails and fears no man nor beast, but she thinks that makes her invincible.”

         “Sounds a lil familiar,” Nick mumbled.

         Nora shot him a look. “You’re talking about yourself five minutes ago, right?”

         “Glory will think dragging something three times her weight is worth the risk, but the rest of us don’t want one of our best operatives to bite it just to prove a point.” He looked at the synth on the ground. “God, she’s ridiculous.” He paused. “No offense.”

         Nick realized the conversation had turned towards him. “Hmm?”

         “I dunno, I didn’t want to sound like I don’t think _your_ life is valuable just ‘cause...” He gestured towards the disabled bot.

         “I’m not offended, I don’t have much... er... _sentimentality_ about my own kind.”

         “See? Just proves my point about Glor.”

         Nora chewed her lip. “I’ll just let her know I tried, then,” she said quietly.

         “You have a lot of honor, don’t you,” Deacon said soberly. She looked up. “I mean, you really didn’t even _have to try_ , y’know. A white lie can do a whole lot of more good than harm-- in fact, I recommend it.”

         Nora bristled slightly. “I don’t want to lie when I made someone a promise.”

         “You didn’t have to make that promise either. If you try to please everyone, you’ll lose yourself.”

         “Now _that_ I can ag-- _ghhhh_ …” Nick made a disgusted groan as Deacon violently ripped a handful of wires from the synth on the ground. “I’m just gonna… cover my eyes for a sec.”

         ---

         Deacon lead them farther into the halls. Before long, they were bathed in an intense fluorescent light, filtering through an impenetrable metal grate partition. He tugged on the door, and it didn’t budge. His head dropped back and he exhaled.

         “Oh, thank fuck.”

         It wasn’t the reaction Nora anticipated. Nick grumbled about obscenity.

         “Y-Yeah?” Nora asked.

         “I’m going to take this being still locked as a good sign that the Institute didn’t get ahold of our shit.”

         He fiddled with a terminal until the sound of a mechanical lock triggered and the door swung open.

         They moved into a circular room, once an apparent underground government base of operations. It was no surprise the facilities had been co-opted as the command post for a group like the Railroad. Nora was a bit perturbed by the reality that such a place had once been fully functioning under her feet on those countless mornings of her internship when she made the office donut run.

         Desks were dragged and toppled and, judging from the bullet casings and dried blood on the floor, had been used as makeshift cover for a gunfight. But the most obvious feature of a massacre was the corpse laid in the middle of the room, face down.

         "Now who could that be," Deacon said softly. He approached the body, and cautiously flipped it. "Songbird... is _that_ where you fell?" He sighed, with solemn disappointment. "No, no, that's not right." Nora glanced at Nick, wondering if they should say or do anything. To her surprise, Deacon leaned down and dragged the deceased agent under a desk. He got up with another sigh, then looked over his shoulder at the pair. "Just a lil more dignity in death. All you can do, right?"

         They both nodded in silence, and Nora clutched her chest, feeling loss that wasn’t her own. It was the closest thing to pathos she’d witnessed from the man thus far.

         The trio did a inspection of the rest of the central rooms. No additional synths seemed to be in sight.

         “Ah, my bed. Gonna miss it,” Deacon said wistfully upon entering a power room that had been partially repurposed into a sleeping quarters. “Just-- _here_. Grabbing my pillow. Like, it's hard to find a good pillow out here,” he said as if making a case to take on sentimental objects.

         “I'll carry anything else you need,” Nora offered.

         “Oh, damn, that's nice of you. You... think you can fit a coffee-maker in your pack? I’m _joking_.” He glanced around the room. “Maybe we can find Glory’s teddy bear while we’re at it. _Nah_ , she doesn’t have one of those-- but that’d be really funny right?”

         “Yeah, that would seem a bit off brand. But I don’t judge,” Nora said, wondering how much grief Deacon was burying under his rapid-fire nearly compulsive sarcasm.

         They continued through the halls, Deacon snatching up both files and supplies and allowing Nora to take whatever goods he left behind for herself.

         “I’m not gonna see that lady we met lying dead in here… am I?”

         Deacon swung around. “Which lady you met? When?”

         “My height, big curly hair like--” She did a fluffing motion around her head.

         “Oh, Nomad? Did you meet Nomad?”

         “She didn’t give a name,” Nick said. “She just pointed a gun at us and told her charge to book it.”

         “Ha, as we do. Nah, don’t worry, she should be alive and well. She’s one of our safehouse agents, came to us from Capital Wasteland once we got short handed. Safehouse is lower tier on the pyramid, but damn her track record for synths is _real good_.” He stopped. “Like, we should _promote_ her. _Huh._ ” He wandered away as if chasing an epiphany.

         Nora looked at Nick. “Railroad goes all the way to DC?”

         “Apparently. I dunno any of this stuff, and yet I feel I _should_.”

         “Now this... _This_ is what I really miss,” Deacon’s voice announced from a nearby bathroom. “Flushing toilets. We had a charmed life.”

         “Priorities, huh?” Nick muttered. “I’m nuts and bolts, but I think that one’s got a screw loose.”

         “I think he’s coping after losing everything. Just like me.”

         “I’m glad you’re not as obnoxious.”

         “That’s so mean,” she said a bit teasingly, since Deacon’s personality was obviously an acquired taste.

         “What?”

         “Are you always this mean?”

         “Yeah, that’s what I’ve been tryin’ to tell ya all along.”

         “I’m gonna talk to him.”

         “Well, knock first, that’s the _men’s room,_ as it were.”

         ---

         “Are you decent?” Nora asked.

         “I’m better than decent.” She popped her head in the room and to her astonishment he was wearing an entirely different outfit, rummaging through a medicine cabinet. He tossed her a pill bottle and she caught it with surprise. “For that time of the month,” he said chipperly. “Synths don’t ovulate.”

         “Uh, thanks, that’s… that’s actually gonna be useful.” She slipped it in her bag.

         “So what’s up, dudette?” he asked as he sauntered out of the room.

         Nora tailed him. “I just… uh, was wondering---”

         “How I changed so quickly? I was a magician’s assistant back in my youth. It’s an art.”

         “Actually, I was wondering… are you OK?”

         “With what?”

         “I... Everything?”

         “Could you be more _specific?_ ” Deacon asked, his pitch raising as if he were utterly lost. She looked around, hoping he’d catch her hint. “Oh _that_ \-- I mean, it majorly sucks ass, but yeah I'm good.”

         “Good?” she asked cautiously. “Listen, my husband was military so I understand--”

         “Oh yeah? So then you get it; we mourn, we move on. We’re soldiers.”

         “But you’re human too,” Nora said gently.

         “We all deal with shit differently. I mean, I know these kids wouldn’t want me getting all clouded by sentimentality. _Hell_ , if I die, don't cry for me.”

         “We won't,” Nick chimed in.

         Deacon pointed with a grin. “This guy gets it.”

         “ _Nick._ ”

         “What? He said so.”

         She sighed, finding it in poor taste and wondering where Nick’s usual soft-spoken compassion had run off to.

         “You guys are funny,” Deacon said. “Like, if I could vet based on who was gonna be a good time, you’d be front of the pack. I loves me a comedy duo.”

         Deacon’s relaxed persona seemed contradictory to both his occupation and present circumstances. Had Nora discovered half the Minutemen slaughtered, it would wreck her beyond measure, even if all her friends had survived.

         Back in their day, her disciplined husband routinely spent hours adrift in the military cemetery, paying his respects to those he had trained with and served alongside who had been casualties of war. Deacon, on the other hand, walked through a mass grave with the mood of someone running errands. She couldn’t judge him as being callous, she had no idea what was truly going on in his head, but still if he was hurting deep now, his nihilism was air-tight.

         “Now, _I,_ ” he started dramatically, “am gonna have a little snack, and then I’m gonna show you our sweet secret room where we hide the cool shit.”

         ---

         The prototype was secured and Deacon bestowed upon her a custom made silenced pistol from one of his fallen friends. She felt a bit honored by the gift and took it as a sign that he wanted her to stick around.

         Turrets made quick work of the remaining assassins lying in wait near the main entrance, and to Nora’s surprise the trio wound up in the basement of the old coffee shop.

         “If you ever wonder why we have an endless supply of java,” Deacon said.

         “Is that how you convince people to join on with the crew?”

         “ _Mayyybe._ ”

         “Say, what’s the uh... mortality rate on this gig?” Nick asked.

         “Uhhhh... I mean... Did you not just see?” Deacon replied.

         “That’s normal?!”

         “Well, like, losing our HQ is not _normal,_ but safehouses go quiet, agents and packages disappear.”

         Nick looked at Nora. “I find this line of work deeply admirable--”

         “Well, thank you,” Deacon chirped.

         “-- but this is... I know you’re a smart kid with a big heart but this isn’t picking off pesky raiders for the Minutemen... This is directly battling with the boogeyman.” He then stared at Deacon. “No offense but you’re like villagers going after a state of the art army.”

         “I mean... He’s not wrong,” Deacon said to her. “But we’re not asking for a lifelong membership. I expedited the process because we’re desperate for a badass to help us pick up the pieces.”

         “Nick... You knew from day one I would be taking on the Institute. Probably alone.”

         Nick shook his head. “Not alone. You have _me_.”

         “Well... Now we have _them_. We can make the world better in the process. For everyone. For you.”

         “Don’t worry about me.”

         “Who was my first friend? Who’s taken care of me this whole time like his life depended on it? You. What are you? A synth.”

         “Aww,” Deacon said cloyingly. “Precious moments, I love it.” Nora gave him a derisive frown. “No, hey-- whatever gets someone like you in with kids like us, I super dig it. You’re a gem.”

         “Yeah. She is,” Nick said, as if admitting a grave truth. He glanced at her. “I... I’m not your keeper... You want this?”

         Nora nodded. “Two birds, Nick.”

         “I... _guess_ everyone seems capable enough. Not exactly a Mickey Mouse operation,” he sighed.

         “I’m sorry, a who?” Deacon asked.

         “Nevermind.”

         Deacon turned to Nora. “Listen, I’m veteran as all hell. You’re not gonna meet an agent with more discipline than me, I will keep you alive. I’ll teach you how to vanish into thin air.” He looked to Nick again. “And hey, if she bails later, gained espionage skills can only help you guys at the agency.”

         “Well... You’ve been gallivanting with worse,” he sighed. She smiled at him.

         “You’re gonna hate me for this, but, I’m gonna have you two go on ahead back to HQ. Splitting up and all that jazz.”

         “I expected as much. I’m getting the hang of this spy stuff, I think,” Nora said.

         “Also, I got a few more things I want to grab. Some sensitive documents, our eyes only kind of stuff. That and some photo albums. And my Wiffle ball trophy.” He sighed. “We could’ve gone to nationals,” Deacon said distantly, before bidding them goodbye.

         ---

         Evening had fallen by the time the duo reached the church. They had had to reroute through backstreets due to a pair of Super Mutants making a foul smelling stew along the trail. Nick hoped it was merely some raider who got what was coming, and not a hapless Railroad operative whose borrowed time had caught up with him.

         Nora entered the cipher once more and the secret door slid open. Desdemona stood where she had upon their first arrival, now puffing nervously on a cigarette. Deacon perched on the brick platform, his legs dangling like a child.

         He raised his arms in the air. “Eyyy! I knew you didn’t die!”

         “Dear God, I thought I’d already lost my new agent.”

         “That seems to happen a lot with us,” Nora said sheepishly.

         “Dez, I told you not to worry. She was an absolute machine taking care of those synths-- no pun intended.”

         “I… I mean, I didn’t do that mu--”

         “Oh c’mon, whose idea was it to group the synths and then _KA-CHOW_ \-- pulse grenade.” If Nick recalled correctly, it was Deacon’s. “Saved a lot of ammo, Dez.”

         “I can’t really take--”

         “So what happened, guys?” Deacon interrupted jumping off the ledge. Desdemona followed, but took the more civilized path of the stairs. “I beat you to it like ten minutes ago.”

         “Greenskin dinner party,” Nick replied.

         “ _Grody._ ”

         “Well. Deacon briefed me quite a bit about how well you did down there. On first impressions you seemed so… I don’t know, _gentle_ , we’ll say. I had some difficulty believing the prior rumors I’d heard about you from him, since he… tends to exaggerate. But since you have our property to prove it, I suppose I have to apologize. For doubting _you_ , not him, I have more than enough reason to doubt him.”

         “Aw.”

         “She’s proven time and again that the path of nonviolence can get you further than a bullet,” Nick said, thankful and also a bit proud that Nora was still unaffected by this world.

         “I see. Well, I hope she’s willing to fight too.”

         “I am,” Nora said with confidence. Nick didn’t want to imagine her in the same sort of rank and file position as someone like Glory, clad in that leather body armor and wielding a weapon more than half her size. But if that’s what was demanded to rescue her son.... it wasn’t his place to advise against it.

         The two women shook hands, and Desdemona drew in a breath of relief. “Then we’re glad to have you on our side...” Her mouth hung open slightly like she wasn’t sure how to close the sentence. “Oh. Yes. This may seem.. _abrupt_ … but we require operatives on this tier to have a codename. It’s… better if we don’t know you by given name. That, way if any of us are captured or tortured, true identities cannot slip out.”

         Nick's nerves prickled. “Tortured?”

         Deacon waved a hand. “It’s a hypothetical. It’s more like, so you don’t blurt it out in your sleep or while in the throes of passion.”

         “I don’t need you to come up with a handle on the spot, but it’d be best if you had one as soon as possible. So we can put you on our rankings.”

         Nick had observed on a few occasions that Nora had some… hangups regarding names. This would either be a piece of cake or something she’d agonize over.

         The spy looming behind Desdemona put a finger to his lips and then the back of his hand beside his mouth like he was… _Oh._

         “Whisper,” Nora said, understanding at the same time as Nick.  


         Deacon did a fist pump. Desdemona remained unaware and smiled. There was a melancholy in her eyes. “Oh. Yes. I… I think that would be very fitting for you.”  


         He had a hunch that this was some kind of emotional manipulation of the leader’s trust, Deacon seeking to ferret favor in Nora’s direction… but principles aside, he had to agree it _was_ a worthy name.

         Drummer Boy ran up the stairs. “Oh good. You’re back.” He turned to Desdemona. “Carrington assessed Nomad’s drop. Both packages _were_ secured.”

         “ _Score_ ,” Deacon sung.

         “Well, in any case, I think it’s opportune to call a meeting. It’s time for Whisper to be officially inducted.”

         “Will do,” the messenger nodded and returned back to the chamber.

         ---

         This time the faces did not hold bewilderment but relief and even excitement as they encircled the stone roundtable.  


         “Welcome to the family, lil’ sis.” Tom beamed, his reservations turning to esteem now that she had delivered their technology unharmed.

         “Yeah, we’ve been hurting for new recruits,” Glory said. “I mean, even since _before_ we lost everything.”

         “A state of the art headquarters, gone,” Carrington added. “Now we’re burrowed in the dirt like rodents.”

         “You say that like it’s a bad thing. Bunnies are pretty cute, right?” Deacon said, giving Nora a smile as he passed. Desdemona followed behind with a clipboard.

         “I know we’re all glad to have a new weapon in our arsenal, after she’s apparently been making waves all over.” Desdemona looked at Deacon who nodded. “But the sooner we get back to work, the better. Targets and packages are always moving, they wait for no one.”

         “Gather ‘round children, mom’s got some ‘chores’ for us,” Deacon said to Desdemona’s obvious chagrin.

         “Ooh, who’re we ‘cleaning up’ now?” Glory asked.

         “Yes, well...” Her gaze darted to Nora as if apologizing for her team’s chronic unprofessionalism, before turning back to the group. “We have on good authority one of the Institute’s hitmen has been spotted.”

         “Enemigo numero uno,” Deacon said.

         “You’re shitting me?” Glory asked.

         “Boom.” He set down a blurry photo. “Good ole’ Connie Cornflakes.”

         “Kellogg,” both Nick and Nora said under their breath.

         Carrington eyed them. “Ah, so you’ve met.”

         “He kidnapped my baby.”

         “Shit,” Glory hissed.

         Desdemona appeared gobsmacked. “Oh... Oh, I’m sorry.” She turned to Deacon, as if questioning whether he was withholding information.

         “So if he saw _you_ on his tail, he’d have no real reason to suspect the Railroad was involved,” Deacon mused.

         Carrington waved a finger. “That’s absolutely true.”

         “Whisper...” Desdemona started with a mix of sympathy and eagerness on her face. “We could give you the intel you need, if you promise to give us any more information about the Institute you may uncover.”

         “Of course.” She nodded. “To stick it to the Institute, find my kid _and_ save synths...”

         “No matter what the outcome, it’ll be for a good cause,” Deacon said.

         “Now, don’t be insensitive,” Nick scolded, unable to bite his tongue.

         “No, Nick, he’s right. Heaven forbid something happened to him, at least I can do something good.”

         “We have multiple tourists on the lookout for Kellogg. Should he cross our path again, we’ll contact you immediately,” Desdemona said.

         “Thank you.”

         “This is a mutually beneficial arrangement, agent. No need to thank us.”

         “But if you wanna thank _me,_ my tab at the Third Rail could use a couple caps...” Deacon muttered in her ear. She laughed.

         “On that note, whoever is up for it: tomorrow I need an escort for an unexpected package.”

         “You game?” Deacon asked her.

         “Yeah, I’m game,” Nora replied as if it were obvious.

         “Me and the newbie, we’re game.”

         “Good.”

         Desdemona continued divvying out assignments while Deacon explained the ropes to Nora.

         Nick reflected that his companion possessed a new sense of purpose. She had always been mature and dedicated, but it was on a level he hadn’t seen. She made it known time and time again that she wasn’t a soldier like her husband, and yet... here she was; listening to the spy with the utmost intensity in her eyes, one that was absent during his own lessons with her.

         Deacon didn't seem to be her type, though. Not particularly handsome or fit. Still, she appeared to be captivated by him. Whether is was being in the presence of a ‘secret agent’, a human with her morals or something more, he wasn't sure. Maybe it was rude to speculate, better to take off the detective hat when it came to his partner’s personal life. As long as it didn’t adversely impact the agency, what business of his was it?

         Soon the white-haired heavy butted into the confab between Nora and her new... _mentor_. The term made Nick suffer his first real stab of jealousy, a feeling and concept he despised, something he found more toxic than radiation. He did his best to banish it from his mind. _You’re not her keeper._

         “So _you_ were the Silver Shroud?” Glory laughed.

         Nora looked slightly embarrassed. “Yeah.”

         “Please, tell me everything, the rumors are nuts -- you didn’t really like tackle a guy from a fire escape did you?”

         “What?” Nora giggled. “No.”

         “Aw, man.”

         Deacon turned his attention to Nick. “I’m craving a cig, man, you got any?”

         “Yeah, actually...” He dug into his pocket.

         “You’re a pal, Val, I owe you yet another one.”

         “Hey, I’ll take a smoke break with ya, it’s been a hell of a day.”

         “No fuckin’ kidding, you two were incredible back there.” He gestured for Nick to follow.

         “Well, it was mostly her.”

         “That’s true.”

         They stepped out into the chamber where they’d first entered. Nick peered at the agent, finding it increasingly peculiar how he wore shades regardless of location or light quality. He’d half expect Deacon to be blind if he hadn’t seen him snipe firsthand. And more than that, something about the man inflicted Nick with the strangest case of deja vu.

         “I swear to God, I’ve _met you_ somewhere-- and forgive me for forgettin’.”

         Deacon beamed. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

         Nick almost dropped his cigarette. It wasn’t the face, it was the voice. Deacon was none other than the ‘eccentric masked samaritan’ who had kept Nora from losing her vision.

         “It was _you_ back there?” Nick said with awe.

         “And at Goodneighbor. And Diamond City,” he counted on fingers. “And Bunker Hill. And--”

         Nick’s goodwill was overtaken by a swell of protectiveness. “You’ve been _stalking her_?”

         “Woah. Hey. Not stalking. I do intel.”

         “Spying on her, then.”

         Deacon sighed. “Here’s the sitch, cause I know _you’re_ not gonna turn on us.” He took a long drag of his cigarette, like a steadying breath before a confession. “There was Institute activity around Vault 111 so, _being_ intel, it was up to me to do my spy stuff and stake it out. Nothing happens, it’s all quiet, for weeks. _Major snooze._ Then one day, like Sleeping Beauty, out comes Vault Girl. And I’m like ‘Woah. I must be dreaming’--” Nick laughed softly, and Deacon smirked at him. “Now _that’s_ telling. She shook you up too, didn’t she?”

         “Yeah. Shook me up good.”

         “Well, then you likely came to the same deduction as me: obviously she’s important. So I followed her. Maybe I even sniped a couple dudes while she slept, who can say. She seemed solid. She helped the Minutemen. She befriended _you_.”

         “And after she took up with me, why’d you keep following us?”

         “I mean, our organization needs to know what every chess piece on the board is doing. That, and I started vetting her for a possible position.”

         “Really. Your people wanted her that early on?”

         “You could say that.”

         “Jesus, kid,” Nick muttered.

         “She’s something else, isn’t she? Was that just a thing back then, like, were people all scrappy and devil-may-care?”

         “I think she’s trying to make the best of a bad situation. After all, she saw the world end once before. Like me, she probably doesn’t want it to happen _again_.”

         “Well, damn, my hat’s off to her.”

         They smoked in silence for a moment, but despite the aroma surrounding him, Nick’s nerves seemed to grow more frazzled.

         “Listen, Deacon, can you do me a favor?”

         “I said I owe you a few. But I can’t make promises like she does.”

         “Since we both are on the same page about her being a rare jewel in all this filth... Make sure she doesn’t get too scuffed. Or worse.”

         “The good thing is, occasional ‘errands’ aside, if she’s _my_ pet project it’s going to be long hikes and stake outs and maybe a bit of _seducing the enemy_ ,” he said, pulling down his shirt neck to expose his collar bone. Nick reared back in distaste. “ _Me_ doing the seduction, not her, she’s just my wingman. She’s a good talker, and I can make her talk _gooder_. Plus I need another pair of eyes on the road.”

         Nick sighed. “It’s not like this is the first time she’s wandered in the wastes without me, and she had some _questionable_ company at times. It just feels... different. Like I’m letting a homing pigeon out while the hawks are circling.”

         “Prolly ‘cause the Institute.”

         “Yeah. But... she needs this.”

         “For her kid?”

         “Yeah,” he said again, but softer this time.

         Nick wished he could’ve been the one to deliver the child back to her arms, but instead he felt as though he’d lead her into a minefield of hazards and said 'good luck with that'. At this rate, Deacon was far more equipped to get the job done than Nick, even if he was the seasoned investigator. Undeniably, it was a weight off his mind to make headway on the case, to finally hold true tangible hope that his dear friend would be whole again. But still, this entire turn of events bothered him, caused him to feel inept. What precisely had he done of use for her as a detective? She had even cracked the codes along the way, put the clues together, things that flew right over the synth’s head.

         It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

         “Alright, man.” Deacon took another long drag. “Can I make a request too?”

         “Shoot.”

         “Don’t tell her.”

         “Tell her what?”

         “C’mon, detective. I’m talking about my _research_.”

         Nick glowered. “And why not?”

         “She’ll figure it out on her own. I don’t want to scare her off from our cause just because she was one of my assignments. You can understand how much we need her, right?”

         “Suppose so. But I don’t fancy keepin’ secrets that big from someone I have none with,” he said sharply.

         “I get where you’re coming from, man, your feelings are valid. Down here, we operate on the ‘need to know’ system, and at this moment she’ll be happier not knowing our eyes are everywhere _._ ” Nick shifted awkwardly as he wondered _how everywhere_ the agent was talking. Deacon let out an exhale of smoke. “Just, believe me when I tell you I’m not stalking your girlfriend.”

         “She’s-- no--” He pinched the bridge of his nose as he felt that god-awful static again. “We’re-- _no_.” The absurdity of the constant assumption floored him every time, to the point where it was losing novelty and starting to be an annoyance. It wasn’t like the company of the other humans in his life invited so many misconceptions. “I’m a robot.”

         “And we’re _the Railroad..._ ” Deacon said slowly as if trying to translate.

         Nick sighed and let out a soft chuckle. “You folks sure have some interesting ideas, I’ll tell you that.”

         “Watch out, man, If you’re single and ready to mingle, Carrington might ask you for your hand in marriage before you know it. As long as Glory doesn’t beat him to it.”

         The two of them laughed and Deacon gave Nick a friendly pat on the shoulder as they headed back to the main room, where Nora waited for them sporting an unamused expression.

         “What?” both men asked.

         “You can’t just abandon me like that, she was asking about the synths and trying to get me to make more promises and it’s _really hard_ for me to say no.”

         “You’re going to need to learn, pal.”

         “Yeah, I agree,” Nick added.

         “Don’t _gang up_ on me.” Her gaze snapped to Deacon. “I panicked and said I needed to use the bathroom, and then I hid. I’d rather you be a buffer.”

         “If I get any _buffer_ I won’t fit in this shirt.” He gave a short nasal laugh and nudged Nick, who was aghast by the absolute joy it elicited from Nora. “Don’t be afraid to talk back to Glory; she _can_ be an asshole, but she’s harmless. I mean, she’s fucking _deadly,_ but also harmless.”

         “So, what do we need to do now?” Nick asked.

         “Oh, well _you_ are free to go, my good man,” Deacon said like a teacher letting his class out early.

         Nick’s gaped for a beat of silence. “Excuse me? I… I thought there was a mission. You… Could I…” His circuits fizzled. “Is there nothin’ you folks need?”

         “It’s best if she and I do these things without a synth involved. You understand right?”

         “Of course, I just…” His eyes met Nora’s. “You’re still green.”

         “I’m a big girl, Nick.”

         “I know, I just mean this isn’t…” He took a breath. “Born and raised wastelanders don’t even toy with this stuff.”

         “I got her, man. I'll be the best damn babysitter who’s ever sat.”

         “I'm older than you think,” Nora replied.

         “Mmn that's _my_ line.” She looked him over, as did Nick. “I’ve had a little work done,” he said caressing his cheek dramatically.

         “And that’s the face ya picked?” Nick asked.

         “Nick!”

         “I’ve picked worse. And better. I also take requests.”

         “So… you two are set.” He still didn’t want to accept reaching the end of his usefulness with the woman who was technically his client.

         “This mission is routine as hell. There’s rarely even gunfire involved, you just act like you don’t know shit and keep your eyes peeled.”

         Nick exhaled and Nora flashed him a look as though he was making a scene. And maybe he was. But then again, how could she blame him?

         “Then I guess I’ll… head home. Hold down the fort, so to speak.”

         “Aww, don’t worry, buddy, we’ll walk you out.”

         ---

         “And you don’t need anything?”

         “Nick, I’m fine. Now I really see what the girls mean about you driving them up the wall.”

         “Whatever she needs, we either got already or can send an intern to buy in Goodneighbor. That was a joke, we don’t have interns -- _well,_ actually, none of us get paid so I guess we’re _all_ interns.”

         Nora laughed and then shrugged her shoulders at Nick. “Well… I’ll see you around, Tin Man.”

         Strangers’ eyes surrounded them -- eyes that belonged to _the Railroad_ , of course, and yet… he couldn’t take the step towards her, like his legs had locked in place. Nora bridged the gap for him, as though reading his mind, and gently wrapped him in her embrace.

         “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Nick said.

         “Which is _most things_.”

         “Well.”

         She seemed casual but… her heartbeat said otherwise. He questioned if she was secretly as anxious as he was about this job, putting on an aloof facade like the spy had. Nick’s mind unfocused until things became fuzzy and rhythmic and he almost felt, for lack of a better word, _sleepy_. Everything else fell away like a deep meditation and all that remained was… the feeling of Nora against him. Warm. Soft. Pulsating.

         Something moved: the glint of Deacon’s lenses, the agent observing them with interest. Nick released her from the hug and stepped back, flustered and unaware just _how long_ he’d been in his head. Nora gazed at him with curiosity, her cheeks almost flush in the warm light. He wondered if it were for the same reason.

         “You got this?” he asked.

         “I got this.”

         “Then you got it.”

         “Yeah,” she giggled. “I do.”

         “Well, I’ll... just assume no news is good news,” he said to Deacon.

         “If anything happened, you’d be the first to know. Just don’t wait by the phone. Like she said; we got this.” Deacon gave him a thumbs up.

         There was something bittersweet in Nora’s smile, and stranger still, Nick found that fact comforting.

         It wasn’t as if he hadn’t traveled without her before, but this time around he felt like he’d carved off a piece of his soul for her to keep, and carried that echo of her heartbeat with him like a ghost of his own.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll try to have the next one up before May 8 (my bday) but if that doesn't happen, just thank yawl for being a part of this journey, one I started on my birthday in 2016 just as a self-indulgent experiment that blew up in ways I never predicted. I hope you enjoy where this story goes.
> 
> Plugging [my main blog](http://television-for-dinner.tumblr.com/tagged/fic+stuff) and [my art/fanworks blog](http://tommytonebender.tumblr.com), cryptic message about checking my side bar, etcetera.


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